


Tell it on the Mountain

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsmooch, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-31
Updated: 2008-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logically speaking, getting back down the mountain should have been quicker than the trek up it: gravity was in their favour, tired feet and tired muscles leading them down and down to the village, to the formal farewell with the chieftain, and to home. But John had found, a time or two, that mudslides had a way of holding things up; and even though the ground beneath their feet was stable now, the rain hadn't stopped, and was quickly turning churned-up earth into a continuous messy puddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell it on the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> For Perspi, who wanted boys in the rain, and for Cate, who wanted grumpuses.

Logically speaking, getting back down the mountain should have been quicker than the trek up it: gravity was in their favour, tired feet and tired muscles leading them down and down to the village, to the formal farewell with the chieftain, and to home. But John had found, a time or two, that mudslides had a way of holding things up; and even though the ground beneath their feet was stable now, the rain hadn't stopped, and was quickly turning churned-up earth into a continuous messy puddle.

He was hoping they'd make it down by evening, even though the rain was heavy and they were all bruised and sore: Teyla had slipped and fallen in the mud about a hundred feet back, landing on her ass with a startled _oof!_, and she was so coated in mud that she looked like she'd just crawled out of a swamp. Ronon was as irritable as he always was when his feet got wet -- damp socks made him finickier than John's grandma's old cat, who would curl up in a ball in front of the fire if the sky showed even a promise of drizzle -- and Rodney, well...

John didn't understand all the fuss. They were all fine, and he was even enjoying the trek back down the mountain in a vague, tired sort of way -- letting his gaze wander out over the view of the yellow and ochre Arjudbon landscape; letting his mind slip to the promise of stepping through the gate to thanks from Colonel Carter, a turkey sandwich, and a well-earned hot shower -- but from the look on Rodney's face, you'd swear he wasn't on his way back to a science team that'd probably do a conga round the 'gate room when they realised he'd got two ZPMs rattling around with the powerbars in his backpack.

But Rodney's mouth was twisted sideways in an expression that had always made John think "Danger, danger John Sheppard!" There was mud smeared across one cheek (face) and both cheeks (ass). His hands were covered in as many scratches and fine cuts as John's own, and step he took was more of a stomp than anything else, mud spraying out in every direction. Rodney, for all his excitement at the prospect of this trip, at the prospect of excavating yet another temple to the Ancestors that the Ancients had intended as nothing more than an architecturally elaborate junk room -- Rodney was not happy.

John cocked a quizzical eyebrow at Teyla, but she didn't seem overly interested in explaining to him what he'd done now. Least, not judging by the growl she'd given him, upper lip curling, and the way she'd redoubled her pace down the mountain rather than answer him. He thought about asking Ronon, but then decided against it -- even his grandma's much coddled Princess Fifi'd had claws, and Ronon had _knives in his hair_ \-- which meant that John was going to have to work out the Mystery of McKay by himself.

Sometimes, Wednesdays sucked.

He dropped his pace a little, slowing down so that Rodney caught back up with him. Rodney's shoulders were hunched, his hair plastered to his forehead, and rain water dripped off the tip of his nose and ran in rivulets down his neck. Every inch of him was set and screaming _keep away_, but John had never been very good at following rules like that.

"Sooooo," he said, trying to decide on what part of Rodney's ego to appeal to first: it was pretty much guaranteed that if you could do that, you'd Rodney talking, and if you got Rodney talking, you'd find out what was worrying him sooner or later. And sooner rather than later. "You think you'll be able to run those quantum simulations Zelenka said you couldn't manage now that we've got this extra power?"

Rodney grunted.

John scratched the back of his neck. "Or get those lasers working? Big space lasers are pretty cool." Which wasn't exactly true: big space lasers were pretty damned _awesome_.

Rodney shot him a look from beneath lashes that had clumped together with rain water -- a look that clearly said _try again, Sheppard_ \-- but didn't say anything.

"Build a ferris wheel out on the west pier? Broadcast the Superbowl on a big screen in the gate room?" John tried, spreading his arms out wide in an attempt to convey its size, and then over Rodney's answering snort said "What? _What_? Come on, McKay."

They'd slid and slithered their way down another couple of feet of shifting stones before Rodney said, "You know, I can appreciate that you have a certain image to keep up, certain cliches that wouldn't say cliches if it weren't for the fact that you didn't indulge in them, oh, I don't know, _every single goddamned time_." His words were so clipped and precise, so restrained, that John knew he was in deep trouble.

"Listen," John said, hopping onto and over and down from a large boulder that had landed on a clump of young trees and left them splintered and dead, making a guess as to what was going on, "It's not like it was a big drop or anything."

"It was a _fucking ravine_," Rodney screeched. Ahead of them, John could see Ronon and Teyla, the traitors, look at one another suddenly pick up the pace. Oh yeah, he'd guessed right.

"Rodney--"

"Shut up!" Rodney snapped. He'd raised one finger in righteous punctuation, and it was quivering, an agitated exclamation mark. John shut up. "Just--listen."

"Okay," John said, and he stood with his arms hanging lax at his side, in the mud and the rain on the side of a mountain, on a planet at star-cool edge of the galaxy, and he listened.

Rodney's mouth worked for a long moment: as if he hadn't expected John to acquiesce so quickly, as if his throat were closing up around all the words he wanted to speak, as if too many words could make for none at all. "That--" he said, and "You--", and finally he cast his eyes to heaven, as if appealing to some hypothetical deity or a passing Ancient. And when no help was forthcoming, he reached out with one big hand and cuffed John upside the head.

"Hey!" John said, but he'd barely had time to pout before Rodney curled that same hand around the nape of his neck and tugged him forward so that they were pressed together. Muddy and wet and bruised and cold: held up and in by tac vests and big boots and the strength of Rodney's arms around him. John exhaled on a little sigh, a sound he hadn't known he could make, and he closed his eyes. "Rodney," he said, "I was always going to be okay. They were right there. I couldn't not--"

"You never can, can you?" Rodney said, sounding a little fond and a little sad. He sounded like someone who, not an hour ago, had been clinging to the edge of a mountain during a mudslide while he watched John disappear over the edge; like someone who'd had to be bodily restrained by Ronon to stop him from diving after John when John had insisted that he could get to the ZPMs before they were buried beneath the flow for generations. "You never can help yourself."

John grinned without opening his eyes, and said "No"; and because he could never help himself, he kissed Rodney as recklessly as he had that very first time. He kissed him with open mouth and lewd curl of tongue and fingers flexing in the sopping wet fabric of Rodney's jacket; kissed him til Rodney's breath hitched and broke, kissed the rainwater from Rodney's crumpled, stubbled face; held on tighter and kissed him to say that these were the things John would always go blindly after: family and home and a universe's bright potential that John could hold between two clumsy, human hands.

"You're still a jerk," Rodney mumbled when John pulled away; but that horrible, stiff tension had left the line of his shoulders, so John pressed a careless, caring kiss to the rain-slick corner of Rodney's mouth, and said "I know you are, but what am I?"

Rodney spluttered, and swore that he hated John and his stupid smirk; and John was still laughing when he took Rodney's hand and led him back down the mountain, trailing after Ronon and Teyla, following their light home.


End file.
